The boudoir of a woman of fashion exhibits in its history, if faithfully recorded, a picture of the manners, modes, and morals of the times; and, however little such things in themselves might deserve to be handed down, or registered as objects of imitation, yet to chronicle them for the day would not be without its use. The sensible part of mankind would laugh at the follies, and wonder at the extravagance, which the page of such ephemeral history unfolded; while the actors in the scene might possibly view in the mirror held up to them their own lives, and their own actions, in a new and truer light.

Lady Tilney's boudoir,—the boudoir par excellence,—was not in fact a boudoir, according to the old legitimate meaning of the word. Indeed, Lady Tilney herself, the presiding deity of the sanctuary, professed her contempt of legitimacy in boudoirs, as well as in sovereigns; at least she did so in words, though, like many other professors, her words and actions frequently contradicted each other; and it may be questioned if there are any greater despots, than those who inveigh most against despotism.

But to return from this digression to the boudoir. Lady Tilney's boudoir was destined to the reception of far other votaries than those of the old rabattu god of love. No: her boudoir was visited by persons of a very different character from those who were formerly the frequenters of such a scene. Authors, poets, political intriguers, artists, and committees for the management of the state of society, formed the chief personages among those who figured there, and their business was of a very different complexion from that of the supposed use, or original meaning ascribed to a boudoir.

In the former, of old, the painted harpsichord, the huge cabinet, the gigantic chimney-piece, the tapestried wall, were suited to the silken garb, and bag and sword, that formed the attire of the male part of its visitants; as well as to the hoop and fly-cap of the ladies who presided there. In this modern temple of idolatry, only a few of the ancient decorations were allowed a place, such as the marquetry cabinet, the or-moulu clock, or vase of China; but for the rest, what a change!

Volumes of worth, and works of merit and deep learning, were now covered by the novels of the day, or hidden by trivial elegancies newly imported from Paris; while on the walls, the rare productions of Titian or Vandyck were intermingled with some chalky portrait of the modern school, tricked out in the millinery geer of the fashion of the day. Scattered on the tables, however, there was a redeeming feature in the character of the decorative objects which met the eye, for there lay some richly chased gold ornaments, the works of Benvenuto Cellini, or some one not less skilful, though it may be of forgotten name; and while these ornamented the apartment, they served the double purpose of affording Lady Tilney an opportunity, not only to discourse on their beauty, but to enter into all the particulars of Cellini's strange life.

Add to this description of the boudoir and its visitants, the occasional presence of Lady Tilney's beautiful children, and its portraiture is closed; but not so the genius and history of all the transactions, councils, and cabals which took place there. These will be best understood, by passing from the boudoir to Lady Tilney's own character and pursuits; if to describe these by any means were indeed possible: but it would be an endless, hopeless task, to enumerate all that Lady Tilney did, or fancied she did—still more what she said; for to do her justice, her's was no vapid existence of the mere routine of a London lady's life.

No—indolence was not the besetting sin, insipidity was not the vice of her morale or her physique. But as to enumerating severally the subjects which employed her care, and the various branches of these subjects into which she diverged, that indeed would be difficult. Her life and occupations may, perhaps, be best delineated by representing them as one vast bazar of interests, all equally claiming her attention—"the court, the camp, the senate, and the field:" certainly the field of Newmarket, where it is said she regulated her husband's calculations and interests with great success.

These objects, and many more than these, which, as the charlatans say at the end of their lists, are too tedious to mention, filled up the life of this laborious and distinguished lady. Nor were her labours less onerous in managing the government of the society of ton. Her rule was there despotic—her word was law;—and if some few persons pretended to step aside, not following the fashionable multitude in bowing the knee to Baal, or ventured to think for themselves in the circle in which she moved, immediately, as though by an enchanter's wand, they were banished thence, and some more amalgamating spirit was chosen to fill up the vacancy. There was a kind of air-gun fired, which was sure to hit the mark, without betraying the hand that drew the trigger: a sort of lettre-de-cachet, as effectual as those promulgated in the times of Louis le Grand, which consigned to oblivion the offending persons, while the victims themselves could not fathom any cause or assign any particular reason for the sentence.

Nevertheless, in the very midst of this ruling and reigning, this despotic sway in the court of ton, a secret dissatisfaction existed in the breast of Lady Tilney. She, indeed, was one of those haughty liberals who affect to despise kings and courts; not because they dislike those necessary evils, as they call them, but because they are themselves, or would be if they could, the greatest of all sovereigns.

Notwithstanding, therefore, the high ground of rank and situation on which she stood, it rankled at her heart to have offended her sovereign, and to feel herself an object of just dislike to him; for, however great the magnanimity shewn to her on the occasion of her offence, still to be aware that, under circumstances, she could no longer be considered a favourite at court, was in itself a source of the deepest mortification. Impressed with this consciousness, what was to be done? Why, render all courts the subject of flippant raillery; vote them and their sovereigns old-fashioned bores; erect herself into a queen, and have a court of her own. In truth, this plan agreed better with her self-love than any other; because sovereigns and courts, in as far as regards the outward decorum of forms, regulate and keep society in its proper course; whereas, under the sham dynasty of ton, caprice bears rule, and tyranny in its worst sense marks the conduct of those who sit on its ephemeral throne.

Connected with this system, the pride of ancestry too was necessarily another subject of ridicule with Lady Tilney, who thought that those who, on such grounds, pretended to take any lead in the world of fashion, had much better retire to their castles, and there indulge in dreams of their greatness.

Nor did Lady Tilney's thirst for power end with her effort for universal dominion in matters of ton—she had another ambition, that of leading and controlling the political party to which she had attached herself. Here, however, her sway was more imaginary than real; and often the long-headed politician, or crafty diplomate, as they listened with apparent complacency to her advice, allowed her words to fall unheeded on their ear, or laughed at her in secret. With the young and uninformed aspirants in the career of political life, Lady Tilney had, perhaps, more success; and many a rising scion of a noble house has been known to adopt, under the influence of her smiles, and from a foolish vanity of being noticed by her, a line of conduct quite at variance with the wishes of their parents, and to the sacrifice of their own best interests.

In this grasp at power, however successfully achieved, Lady Tilney felt herself ill at ease—her mind was continually harassed by reflections on the tottering and uncertain tenure of ton, and the possibility, nay, probability, of some younger, newer person, climbing to the envied seat which she then possessed. The fear of a certain Duchess of Hermanton was constantly before her imagination, as the embodied object of her alarm; and she considered it as a measure little short of self-preservation, to secure her influence, if possible, on a still firmer basis, by some decided act, or the invention of some fresh folly. As to Almack's, that circle of exclusiveness had been polluted; its brief course was run, and its brightness on the decline.

The more Lady Tilney reflected on the subject, the more she became convinced of the expediency of her intentions; and determined, therefore, to mature her plan immediately. Having despatched her notes to the Comtesse Leinsengen, Lady Tenderden, and Lady Ellersby, she commanded that no one should be admitted to her presence but themselves.

"Yet stay, Destouches," she added to the page, as she issued her orders; "Prince Luttermanne by all means, should he call." And then, having given audience to three cooks, four painters, two authors, an authoress, and several milliners, she finished with advice to a poet and a critique upon his work.

Lady Tilney, before the arrival of the personages she had written to (for Lady Tilney knew the value of intervals), arranged her list of engagements; tossing some into the fire—with the velocity of one well practised in the weight, measure, and value of names; and examining others of more importance. She determined to mar all that might interfere with her own views in society.—"Mrs. Annesly, truly what a griffin! and the Countess of Delamere, and Lady Melcombe!—but the Marchioness of Borrowdale! that indeed requires attention." Lady Tilney rang the bell—Destouches appeared in a minute—the peculiar hasty touch of call was known to the well-appointed page. "Send Arquimbeaud here!" and the distinguished Arquimbeaud soon obeyed the summons. "I have determined to have a party, Arquimbeaud, next Thursday; see that cards are issued for that day, according to this list."

As he withdrew, Comtesse Leinsengen was announced. The immense bonnet and deep veil—the splendid cashmere and still long petticoats (although they were generally worn very much shortened), afforded a favourable costume to the lady who now advanced; certain defects were thus concealed, and imagination might lend that delicacy of slimness and form to the feet and ancles which pervaded the rest of the person, but which did not characterize those of the Comtesse.

The rapid volubility of the one lady, and the sharp short sentences of the other, began the conference. Lady Tilney placed the most luxurious of all the luxurious chairs close to the fire, pushed forward the screen, and with the eagerness of apparent friendship, seemed to wish to make her visitor quite at home: or, as she expressed it, "deliciously comfortable." "You have learned that word now, dear Comtesse,—indeed you have adopted it; and there is no one who understands the thing so perfectly as yourself."

Midst all these courtesies and courtings the Comtesse observed a sort of abstracted air, though they were (and so far Lady Tilney was sincere) things of course.

"My dear Comtesse, I am so glad we have a minute alone, to discuss our plans. I have many things of consequence to say to you; but before I begin I must speak to you of that horrible affair of poor Lady Mailing's; it is quite impossible to support her any longer, for you are aware her secret is publicly known. So long as she was prudent, and observed appearances, it was all very well; but now it will be impossible for me to receive her. You know I never did receive any body who placed themselves in a similar situation—not even my own relations; my character has always been intacte, and I cannot compromÈte myself, though I am very sorry for poor Lady Mailing; and had she only avoided this esclandre, and managed her affair prudently, I would have stood by her to the end; but as it is—"

"Oh, certainly not," interrupted the Comtesse; "you must be conscious that every one knows Lady Tilney's high reputation, and it would never be supposed dat you would countenance a belle passion; vraiment, quand on est tellement dupe as to sacrifice sa position dans le monde, to a man's vanity, or to be playing de sentimentale at forty, it is quite enough to make one sick, and she well deserves to be vat you call blown. Mais, de grÂce, do not let us prose more about her—vat sinifies?"

"Oh, very true, and then there are other matters of so much greater consequence to consider. Do you really think that this administration will hold—you who are in all the secrets?—positively you must tell me. I am sure if that man (lowering her voice to a whisper) is at the head of affairs, all must go wrong—poor England! what will become of you? But we will never allow that—shall we?"

"Oh! trÈve de politiques, ma chere, si vous m'aimez; it is a subject quite marital, and therefore, you know, not at all in my way. What I want to revolutionize, or rather to reform, is your state of society."

"Precisely, my dear Comtesse, it is the very subject on which I wished to talk to you, when I wrote requesting to see you—you received my note, did you not?"

"Oh, yes; but it is an affair on which we hold such very different opinions. My maxim is, se bien amuser d'aprÈs sa propre volontÉ—that is what I want to do; and to tell you the truth, I am ennuyÉ À la mort in your London world—every thing is so stupid here! Vat signify dat tiresome Almack, after all? It was good enough at first, when it put people in a passion, et pendant que se faisoit fureur; but now that, somehow or oder, you liberales admitted every petite demoiselle vid her red elbows, and vulgar mama to take care of her, it has lost all its character, and I positively intend to withdraw my name. Besides, de lady patronesses cannot even maintain a seat at de top of de room—de oder night I find Lady Melcombe and her daughter perch up in my seat; and though I walked over them and stared them down, dey positively took no hint, but sat still so comfortably vulgar it was quite provoking. No, no, my dear, Almack's day is finish and de thing must fall—so never stay by a falling friend; when a person or a ting begins to totter, leave it."

"Very true," rejoined Lady Tilney; "there is much truth in what you advise (and she looked very grave). But then, you know, my dear Comtesse, you must consider the independence of our constitution—which makes it very difficult—"

"Not to have a stupid society.—Agreed."

"But the great number of our nobility," rejoined Lady Tilney, "and the weight and consequence of a still greater number of influential members in the other house"——

"Renders all your pretences of a sociÉtÉ choisie mere pretence."

"Pardon me, Comtesse, you have yourself owned that my parties are select; and you yourself, although in a public situation, contrive to leave out those who do not suit your purpose. After all, what can tend more to the preservation of society?—than such impertinence" was on Lady Tilney's tongue; but she checked herself, and added with a little cough that gave time for reflexion: "What can tend more to the maintenance of a sociÉtÉ distinguÉe than the exercise of this choice, made without reference to the rank or situation of the parties, but merely dependent on the voice of the few who are formed to lead?"

"Very true," rejoined the Comtesse Leinsengen, "and if that system was properly upheld, it is the only chance of not being obsÉdÉ by vulgars;—but you do not act upon it sufficiently. As to myself, I can no long bear de whole ting; my health does not permit of your late hours, and I generally go away when your company are beginning to arrive. And then these great routs of your Duchess D'Hermantons and your Ladi Borrowdales and Aveling, sont À dormir de bout."

"Agreed, my dear Comtesse, I do so agree with you; it is the very matter I am longing to discuss with you. Do let us settle something amongst ourselves, that shall rid us of all these evils, and establish a sociÉtÉ À part. I must tell you what I have already done to effect this purpose. You know that odious Lady Borrowdale has one of her everlasting At Homes next Thursday, to meet their Royal Highnesses the ---- as usual, that vulgar decoy; so I have therefore countermanded my former invitations, and issued my cards for that very day—Nobody will go there, will they?"

"Perhaps not many; and if some do, there are plenty left."

"Yes," said Lady Tilney, with ill-concealed anxiety, "but you know the royalties always do accept her invitations."

"What matters dat—you do not care for royalties." For an instant Lady Tilney's command of language was checked—she almost betrayed her vexation, when fortunately the name of Lady Ellersby was announced, whose dawdling drawl, as she entered the apartment, smoothed over the asperities which began to mark the conversation, and which might have rendered it in the end a little too piquante.

"My dear Lady Ellersby," said Lady Tilney, "how charmed I am to see you. I was dying to meet you, to consult you, to enjoy your entertaining society." The Comtesse Leinsengen smiled significantly, as she said, "And so was I."

"Consult me! La—well, that is something quite new—nobody ever consulted me; but pray explain what you mean."

"Oh! we want to establish some regulations by which our society shall be distinguished, and which shall save us from the inroads of all these people whom we are constantly meeting, and obliged to be civil to, whether we will or no—in short, something that shall make us, as we ought to be—a race À part."

"I thought," Lady Ellersby replied, "we always were that."—"To be sure we were; but then, my dear, you know abuses will creep in, and all constitutions require from time to time to be strengthened or reformed, according to circumstances; and you know, my dear Lady Ellersby, that we have all of us long since lamented that Almack's, which was excellent in its way, has now, from the infringement on its privileges, become quite corrupted from its original design, and something positively must be done, or we shall be overwhelmed en masse—something to stem this torrent, this inroad of Goths and Vandals."

"Dear me, that sounds very alarming—you quite frighten me; I don' t understand you—pray tell me what it is you propose."

"Why," answered Lady Tilney, "we wish to form a society entirely to ourselves, which shall be quite exclusive—a society for which we shall settle d'avance every particular and qualification of the persons who may be admitted to it. Thus you see (turning to the Comtesse Leinsengen), my dear Comtesse, we shall never do any thing but in concert with each other, and never invite any one but those who entirely suit us. You understand me now, don't you?" addressing Lady Ellersby.

"Oh dear, yes! I think I do."

"No, no, you do not understand her. Permettez—in one word I will explain vat Lady Tilney mean to say: voici le mot de l'Énigme—you are all English, and though you do your possible you cannot help being English. You are all afraid in dis country to do vat you like best; and though Lady Tilney propose to ask only de chosen few, you will none of you do so in reality, take my word for dat. You talk freedom, but act in chains. Now we, au contraire, chez nous—we women I mean—do de freedom, and never tink of de chain at all; but whenever you ladies make your lists for your parties for instance; den comes—dis is not politic, toder is not right,—dis is not my husband's pleasure; some scarecrow or anoder is always driving you off de land of amusement. Now you say you will open your doors only to those you like, and you are right—dere is no oder secret for to make pleasant society; but you will not do it nevertheless, ladies, for you are all de cowards."

"Indeed, my dear Comtesse," rejoined Lady Tilney, "you will find that we shall, though—and I think effectually; although there are certain principles in our constitution which extend to the ruling even of private life—and these the wives of certain nobles cannot wholly overlook." Comtesse Leinsengen shrugged her shoulders.

"Ah, dear, it is as I thought, you are de woman I like best in dis country; but you are all over shackle, up to de ear in de qu'en dira t'on! De plebe ought to be made of de noble's opinion, not de noble constrained to dat of de vulgar."

"That may do very well with you," rejoined Lady Tilney, "but with us as an unqualified maxim it will never do. I grant, Comtesse, all that you say can be done in one's own house, where one makes one's own laws and rules in one's own way: so far it is only asserting one's own right to liberty, and as far as we can persuade people to be of the same way of thinking it is all right. But I have too much liberty in my heart to desire to tyrannize as you suggest; and, in fine, confess myself too much of an Englishwoman to wish to see your system prevailing amongst us."

Lady Tilney said this in a tone of English pride, which proved that she had not forgotten all that was best worth remembering, although it was in contradiction to the spirit of what had fallen from her a moment before.

Lady Tilney, however, dealt largely in contradiction at all times. The Countess Ellersby smiled; the Comtesse Leinsengen again shrugged her shoulders, drew her shawl around her, and was preparing to depart, saying, "Well! mes chÈres dames, I leave you to the enjoyment of your liberty, and have done."

"But I have not done," said Lady Tilney; "I am determined we shall have a society that shall be quite our own, and yet not subversive of principles we must uphold. (Another shrug of the shoulders.) Allow me to say, that if you, Comtesse, and you, my dear Lady Ellersby, will but second me, I am sure we shall not fail, and I know I may reckon on Prince Luttermanne co-operating with us;—so far so good."

"And Princesse Luttermanne?" inquired Lady Ellersby.

"Oh, for the prince's sake we must have her," replied the Comtesse Leinsengen, "D'ailleurs, dans ma position, it could not be oderwise—in all cases we must pass over des inconveniens—besides she is good-humoured, and has her own fry to fish, and will not trouble us much."

Lady Ellersby and Lady Tilney looked at each other, and laughed. "And then," observed Lady Tilney, "we have Princesse de la Grange, and Mrs. Kirchoffer; we must enrol them on our list (although they are sufficiently insipid), because they can be useful, and dare not act but in subserviency to us. But, Lady Boileau, what shall we do with her? She indeed has a will of her own, and she has a mother very much de trop, whom however she treats cavalierly enough (of which, by the way, I do not approve); but, notwithstanding, I think we must have her, though we can by no means be troubled with the mama."

"Certainment pas," cried the Comtesse, "for the Irish mama with her vulgar repartee would give a mauvaise tournure to de whole society."

"There you are right; and while we admit the daughter, remember, it is only on sufferance, just on the same footing as we admit Mrs. Kirchoffer, and as I propose that we should also do Lady de Chere and Lady Hamlet Vernon, and——"

"Mais, que faire de la jeune lady," interrupted the Comtesse, "qui parmi un certain set is a good deal de vogue, Ladi—Ladi,—vat you name her?"

"What, Lady Baskerville?" asked Lady Tilney; and then replied, "Oh she must be one of us, to be sure, for I think we can make use of her—she only longs to be in the fashion, and her husband also. Flatter their vanity, and you do with them what you chuse; make them believe they are of the ton, and you have them at command."

"Well, den, now you have named all de ladies I suppose, and dere is but one cavalier; do you mean us to be a convent, and have no gentlemen?"

"By no means, my dear Comtesse; of course there will be all our husbands." Here the Comtesse Leinsengen had recourse to her usual expressive gesture of contempt. "And then," proceeded Lady Tilney, "there is the Duke of Mercington, Lord Raynham, Lord Tonnerre, Leslie Winyard, and Frank Ombre,—Spencer Newcombe,—and we must not forget Lord Glenmore; though I wish he were more decided in his political creed. Besides we cannot omit Lord Albert D'Esterre, whom we must have on probation, for he is young and only just returned from the Continent; but they say he is very clever, and I think may in time become one of us. But, ere we decide further on the gentlemen, we must consult Prince Luttermanne."

"Ah! bon chere ladi" (with a nod of approval). "Quite so," added Lady Ellersby, languidly; "for, though he is called good-humoured, he can be as cross as is necessary. I never saw any body walk over people better than he does."

Lady Tilney, who had been for the last minute or two busily employed with her pen setting down the names which she had just mentioned, interrupted Lady Ellersby, saying, "By the bye, there is one rule very necessary to be observed, which I am sure we shall all agree in; that is, to admit no unmarried ladies, unless something very particular indeed should make us waive our resolve. When I say this, I do not, of course, mean to balls; but I mean to those coteries which will in fact constitute the Élite of our society. And then I propose that we none of us go to the old-established dullifications; but, on their nights, each one of us must in turn take care to chuse that same evening for our coteries."

"Dat vill do very well for de Lady Borrowdale, and de Lady Aveling, and dat old Marchioness—vat you call her—Feuille morte; but La Duchesse D'Hermanton, vat vill you do vid her? it is not so easy to take dat lionne par la barbe."

"Oh," rejoined Lady Tilney, for this was a name she feared to offend, "the Duchess is not one of us, it is true; but we need only walk once a year through her apartments; and we can bear that—besides, she is a sort of person" (apart)—and Lady Tilney broke off abruptly from a subject, in itself always disagreeable to her.

"And now," she went on to say, "having formed the outline of our plan, we have only to follow it up, and I am sure it will be successful. I wonder Prince Luttermanne and Lady Tenderden are not come, for I wrote to them both; and I should have liked that we talked the matter over altogether. However, I cannot doubt but they will agree with us in our arrangements; and if you, dear Comtesse, and you Lady Ellersby, will see Princesse de la Grange and Mrs. Kirchoffer, and Lady Baskerville, I will take care to speak to the other parties. Of course I shall see Prince Luttermanne some time or other this day, and Lady Tenderden, for they must have received my notes; and I will settle with him about our gentlemen." Then addressing the Comtesse, she added, "I need not, I am sure, remind you, who are so discreet, that the success of every thing which is to produce Éclat depends upon the secret combination of the movements; and therefore, in speaking to the different parties, pray impress on their minds the absolute necessity of privacy, and not to let our designs be known beforehand by a premature publication of them, but rather let them be developed by their effect; and when their existence will have been confirmed beyond the possibility of counteraction."

"Assurement laissez moi faire."—And here Lady Ellersby, looking at her watch, started from her chair, saying, "Dear me! I had no notion it was so late. I had an appointment with my Lord, and it is past the time. Bless me! what shall I do?" Then making her adieu, with more vivacity than was her custom, she departed in greater haste than she was ever known to do before.

"Who is her Milord just now?" asked Comtesse Leinsengen.

"Oh fie! malicieuse," replied Lady Tilney.

"Is it again dat little consequential personage who looks like a perdrix santÉ aux truffes? I fancy I saw something like a rÉchauffÉ getting up between them de oder night at Lady De Chere's."

"Now really, my dear Comtesse, I must defend my friend. People are always so ill-natured—one must have some cavalier, you know, to walk about with in public—and scandal always ascribes evil where none exists. No, no; Lady Ellersby has too charming a husband for this to gain credit for a moment." The Comtesse's usual shrug implied comme vous voulez, and she added, "it is truly extraordinary how any body can call dat ladi handsome, vid her drawn mouth and peevish expression!"

"Surely she has a sweet smile?"—"When it is not a bitter one," rejoined the Comtesse; "but what sinifies? she does very well for what she is good for. Now I must go, and you must be de active agent in settling our Lady Parliament; as for me, I will have a sinecure post."

"You are quite delightful, Comtesse, and ought to have every thing your own way; so good bye, if you must go. I will remember to see Prince Luttermanne; I will not let the matter rest—adieu," and they kissed each other's cheeks on both sides, "adieu!"—"You will not let de matter rest—no, I am sure you will not—nor any oder ting or person," thought the Comtesse, as she glided out of the room. "How frightfully red her nose is become," observed Lady Tilney, soliloquizing, as she looked at her own smooth cream-coloured skin in the glass.